


two sides of the same coin

by SparrowPixie



Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: Angst, Dara is a big brother and I didn’t know I needed that, Dara is a good friend, Friendship, Gen, Hurt, PTSD, Post EOG, Post Empire of Gold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27288844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparrowPixie/pseuds/SparrowPixie
Summary: Almost a decade after Empire of Gold Dara learns that his friend and soldier Irtemiz has fled Daevabad. When he finds her she is worse for wear, but he will not abandon her so easily.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big brother Dara is up there with my favorite Dara’s now

Dara walked the roads of Al-Marahar - a town in the countryside of Daevastana - with his hood up, covering the Afshin mark on his temple. It was here his old friend supposedly resided. In one of his more recent letters to the Banu Nahida, he had asked of Irtemiz’s well being. How she was recovering in the aftermath and if Daevabad was treating her well. In Nahri’s reply she informed him that Irtemiz had left Daevabad nearly five years ago, just a year after the battle, without so much as a goodbye. 

One day, Nahri noticed that she hadn’t been coming to collect her sleeping potion anymore and when she’d inquired with some of the locals they’d said she likely went back home.

Nahri had assumed that she and Dara had connected, but he hadn’t come across her even once in his travels. As worrisome as it was that she had so mysteriously vanished, Dara had difficulty hiding his excitement. He had not counted heavily upon ever reuniting with the warrior that he’d come to see as a little sister. He had not counted heavily upon ever reuniting with  _ anyone _ really. 

After walking the dusty roads of the small town and not spying Irtemiz anywhere in sight, Dara ducked into a local tavern. He self consciously adjusted the hood of his jacket again, assuring he would not be recognized. He kept his eyes downcast as he approached the bar. An older gentleman crossed him - before he could speak Dara cut him off.

“I’m supposed to be meeting a friend here. She’s about twenty-eight, probably wears her hair in a braid. Her name is Irtemiz.”

The man paused and for a moment Dara thought he’d been caught.

“Irtemiz left when the town started to be neglected by Ghassan nearly a decade ago,” the man said. “She returned a few years ago but left after… She packed up and left a few months later. Been gone for years now.”

Dara sighed. “I see. Where has she gone?”

“Why?” the man challenged.

He looked up at the man whose bleary gaze startled once he noticed Dara’s eyes. “As I said, she is a friend.”

The man looked around the bar surreptitiously. Dara was almost certain he’d been recognized, but as the man didn’t seem intent on calling attention to them, he did not panic. The man leaned forward.

“Keep it to yourself, but she’s supposed to be holed up in the forest about a day east of here. I believe she may be at her father’s workshed. It’s tucked away right next to the river,” he said quietly. 

Dara nodded, his response seemed genuine enough. Why the man would lie he wasn’t sure, but Dara also didn’t know why he would disclose what seemed like private information to a strange slave wandering into his tavern in broad daylight. He decided not to question his good fortune and dropped a few coins on the bar before leaving.

Irtemiz would be easy enough to find. He’d only have to rise above the treetops of the forest to the west and try to spot a workshed by the river. Not to mention he was now heavily motivated by concern. It was not like Irtemiz to keep secrets or to hide away. She had always been very vocal.

It took Dara less than an hour to spot what appeared to be a large shed beside the narrow river running through the forest. He shifted from his smoky form, landing a few yards from the wooden hut. It was no bigger than Nahri’s palace apartment had been. By the river there was a stump and an impromptu fire pit. In a small clearing he saw a makeshift target dummy, compiled of sacks and straw. Three arrows were sunk in the chest, throat and face. This was her. Dara was glad to see she was still taken with the bow. Judging by the placement of the arrows Irtemiz had recovered well from her injuries just as Nahri had said in her letter. 

He tried to make his footsteps loud, not wanting to startle her. There was a sudden sinking sensation in his stomach. What if he opened the door and found her dead on the floor? What if that was why she came out here? What if the reason her arrows remained in the dummy was because she wasn’t alive to retrieve them? 

His footsteps became more urgent. There was a single stair before the wooden door. He knocked on it ardently, rocking back on his heels and trying to peer in through the window. The dust coating the panes was too thick to see through. He couldn’t hear a sound.

Dara knocked again, this time a little gentler. 

Nothing.

He leaned towards the door, clearing his throat. “Irtemiz?” Dara strained his ears for any noise. His leg itched to kick the door down, he could always fix it with a snap of his fingers - then again that ran the risk of hurting her.

_ If she isn’t hurt already… _

He rapped on the door. “Irtemiz, it is Darayavahoush and if you are dead I’ll be very cross with you.”

There was a tumbling noise within and the door swung open. She stood in the doorway wrapped in what could’ve been a large shawl or a thin blanket. Her familiar braid was gone, instead her dark hair fell in wavy mane down her back. Irtemiz’s dark eyes were wide, slightly red and rimmed with dark circles from lack of sleep, her lips in a flat line. She looked so tired. She reached for him, fingers brushing the front of his jacket as though to check if he were solid.

Irtemiz blinked, the alarmed expression on her face exchanged for confusion. “What are you doing here?”

He removed his hood and attempted to appear nonchalant. “Nahri told me that you had left Daevabad. I checked in with your town Al-Marahar, and they said you had left. A long time ago.”

She nodded, her eyes distant. “I did.”

He was unable to help himself. Seeing her in this state was familiar to how she had been in those weeks after he’d rescued her in Daevabad.

Dazed but aware. Coherent but a little lost. He knew the expression well. He had worn a similar one when Khayzur had found him wandering the desert. Yes, she was a puzzle, a riddle to herself. It was agony.

“My friend,” he said softly, “tell me how to help.”

In a matter of seconds, her expression crumbled and she fell against his chest. Dara wasn’t surprised in the slightest. He knew what it felt like to be teetering on the edge of falling apart. All you needed was one opportunity, the slightest push, to be sent plummeting to the ground. 

Her back heaved with sobs and Dara gently guided her back inside the shed. 

And a shed it was - or at least had been. 

There was a small bed with a weathered pillow pushed into the corner. A wood burning stove stood in the corner with a stool. Shelves lined the walls with various tools and a few stray books. Glass orbs hovered in the corners barely illuminating the room. 

He steered her towards the bed. “Sit down, alright?” Dara slowly lowered her onto the bed, she stared ahead sniffing, tears rolling down her cheeks. Dara could tell it wasn’t the first time she had cried today. “What flavor was that disgusting tea you liked so much? The one you always asked me to conjure after training?”

Irtemiz breathing hitched, her voice came out hoarse. “It was ginger root and lemongrass.”

Dara conjured two cups of the tea, though he had no intention of drinking his. He knew the comfort of having a drinking partner.

Dara dragged the stool from the wood burning stove to sit in front of Irtemiz and handed her one of the cups of tea. If he was a few inches taller he would’ve had to bow his head, though the width of his arms  _ were _ presenting a problem.

He sat with Irtemiz in silence for a long moment letting her drink. The tea was warm but she still had the shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. 

“Something must be wrong for you to be so quiet for once,” the Afshin remarked with a small smile. 

“Yes.”

“So share this burden with me,” he said softly. “From what I heard, the people of Daevabad didn’t chase you out. Your town seems to think you’ve become some sort of hermit…”

“Who did you speak with?” 

“A man at the tavern.”

“Nirav,” she muttered. “He wouldn’t say a word against me.”

“Why would anyone speak a word against you?” 

She took a drink of her tea, flinching at the question. “A lot has happened.”

Dara pauses wondering if he should breach the question. He took a deep breath and decided to ask once more. “What happened?”

Her lips parted as though to speak, but the moment her eyes met his all that came out was a choked sob. She covered her mouth, dissolving into tears once more. Dara laid a hand on her knee. He knew the look in her eyes. She was haunted. What was worse, she was haunted and alone. A fate only a monster such as he should suffer.

After a moment Dara took the tea from her, gently easing her to lie down on her side. “Rest. When you wake we will talk.”

She sniffed, her hand clutching his. “You will stay, Afshin.”

The corner of Dara’s lip lifted in a somber smile. “Aye, for you my friend, I will wait.”

While Irtemiz slept, Dara silently made his way around the hut - which wasn’t hard seeing as three steps in either direction was all the space he had. He cleaned the wood burning stove of the ashes, swept the floors of dirt, polished the kettle on the counter top and organized her bottles of herbs. He cleared the dust-caked window and the corner of their cobwebs. Outside he remodeled her handmade fire pit and conjured stacks of dry wood. He repaired her target dummy and collected the arrows, arranging them neatly in her quiver leaning against one of the trees. Finally, Dara summoned a second stump right next to Irtemiz’s before the fire pit and conjured a lunch of stew and spiced rice. 

It was shocking to see Irtemiz in such a state. To imagine she had been here, on her own,  _ alone _ for so long. She’d always kept her spirits high. Nothing kept her down, not for long at least. Not the harsh winters, not the long training hours, not the injuries she sustained when she had been taken prisoner. Nothing.

Whatever had happened - whatever she was going through that sent her reeling and spiraling into this state of disrepair, was nothing to balk at.

The door to the shed opened and Dara looked over his shoulder to see Irtemiz exiting, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “What’s all this?”

“Lunch,” Dara answered simply. “Come sit with me.”

Irtemiz nodded and joined him, taking the adjacent stump. He noted that her hair was tied back in a large knot at the nape of her neck and she no longer donned her shawl. He frowned. Seeing her in her traveling clothes now he realized she was very thin. Too thin for his liking. 

He decided against breaching the topic of her sudden departures. It could wait.

“You cleaned everything,” remarked Irtemiz.

Dara smirked at her. “I had to, didn’t I? You were living in filth.”

Irtemiz snorted, helping herself to some of the rice. “And you made me lunch.”

“I  _ summoned  _ you lunch,” he corrected. “And I had to do that too. You’re practically skin and bones. What have you been eating? Aside from your meager stash of manna and rice that I found.”

Irtemiz flushed averting her eyes. “I just don’t have the energy to cook it often.” 

Dara shrugged, handing her a cup of cardamom scented tea. “It’s not your disgusting grass tea, but it will wake you up.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, and please finish eating,” he added sternly. “You can’t be lagging behind.”

“Lagging behind?” she repeated.

He nodded again. “Yes. You’re showing me your woods after lunch.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irtemiz takes Dara to her favorite spot

“How long have you been here?” Dara asked as they continued to walk alongside the river.

“I left Daevabad not long after you. Then I went back home. Left a few months later. Stopped at a few places along the way,” she muttered. “And then I came up here to my baba’s old shed. Decided I was better off alone.”

“Why?”

Irtemiz stopped in her tracks and faced him, jaw set. Her expression wasn’t angry, but it certainly was not happy. “Why are  _ you _ here?” 

Dara felt slightly startled at the accusation in her voice. He gathered himself, blinking. “I told you, I had heard that you left Daevabad and wanted to see you.”

“But why?” Irtemiz pressed.

He noticed she gripped her walking stick tightly, her knuckles white. 

Dara gave her a knowing look. “Are you going to pretend you were unaware that you were always a favorite of mine?”

A ghost of a smile crept on her lips. She faced forward again, resuming her pace. Dara walked alongside her.

“I was  _ always _ a favorite of yours, eh?” 

Dara snorted. “Stop acting like that is a surprise.” He looked over at her with an arched brow. “Did you see me asking anyone else to deliver an intimate message to the woman I love? You recall that I risked my own life saving you, against Manizeh’s orders, correct? Has life as a hermit damaged your memory?”

She laughed to herself, a quiet sound that was not quite so bright as the one he had known her to have. His heart broke a little at the lack of life in her eyes. The wistfulness that seemed to cloud her vision. The regret. 

“I knew towards the end there that I was in your favor,” she remarked. “But I was dreadful when we first met.”

“What?” Dara said, his voice genuinely puzzled. “Are you confusing the two of us?”

When he had first met her  _ he  _ was dreadful. He spoke to her and Laleh and the other female warriors as though they were children. He had woefully underestimated them simply because of their gender. Even remembering his behavior made his ears hot.

“Yes, I suppose your behavior  _ was  _ pretty dreadful,” Irtemiz drawled. 

Dara’s grin broadened ever so slightly at her snarky tone.

“But I _was_ hopeless when we first started training. Missed the target by _miles._ I was probably the worst with a bow.”

“No, no, Gushtap was the worst. I had to practically wrap his hand around the bow he was so discouraged,” he snickered. “You were so driven. Do you remember the third night of your training? When you marched into my tent?”

Irtemiz scoffed at the memory.

Dara continued. “You looked so  _ nervous _ .”

“Could you blame me?” she asked, glancing at him, her brows furrowed. “I was asking Darayavahoush e-Afshin to give me  _ more _ corrections on my archery.”

“Well, from what I saw you were a cheerful sort. The way you laughed and joked with everyone. Even the older recruits. You didn’t seem the anxious kind,” Dara recalled fondly. “Can I ask what you were thinking? When I asked you to come with me to practice privately that night?”

She barked a short laugh that didn’t quite meet her eyes, shaking her head. Dara wondered how long it had been since she’d smiled - since she’d laughed with someone. They’d had few moments in their history when they were casual with one another, her more often than him, but he treasured them. He had treasured the moments where he felt normal more than anything else. Her concern for him, the way Irtemiz never feared him, had been a source of happiness in otherwise bleak times.

“Well, part of me thought you were going to murder me…”

“ _ Murder _ you?” Dara laughed. 

“Yes, I just assumed I was getting on your nerves and it was best to do away with me.”

“What was the other, hopefully more sensible, part of you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, her voice thoughtful. “All you said was ‘come’ so the other part of me was just confused, I guess.”

Dara remembered that night well. He had been moping in his tent while the recruits ate dinner by the fire just outside, his mind wandering. He’d heard very determined footsteps and the flap to his tent had swung open. Irtemiz’s fists had been clenched, her jaw set defiantly and her eyes wide with anxiety. She’d told him she knew that she was bad with a bow and that she “could take criticism” and didn’t want him to “hold back” because she was “just some country girl.”

He’d stared at her perplexed and amused. Dara had been tired of letting himself wallow in his regret and self doubt that particular evening and found he was glad for the distraction. He hadn’t really considered how Irtemiz would take it when he had taken a swig of his wine, stood and had only said “come” stalking out of the tent. It wasn’t  _ entirely _ irrational to assume he was going to kill her since she didn’t really know him. All she had known was his fearsome legend. 

“What about you?” Irtemiz asked.

“What about me?”

“Yes, what were  _ you _ thinking? If it wasn’t that I was annoying, what did you think?”

Dara grinned to himself. “That you were funny.” She pursed her lips at him, likely irritated he hadn’t taken her more seriously. “See it through my eyes. You have only just picked up a bow, are naturally hopeless with it, I have not been anything but cordial and you storm into my tent - your  _ commander’s _ tent -  _ unannounced _ , and demand that I be meaner to you.”

He saw Irtemiz smile in spite of herself out of the corner of his eye.

They rounded a large tree, the ground beneath them inclining. Ahead he could make out steep slopes. Green light filtered through the leaves above them. Perhaps this wasn’t the worst place to exile yourself.

“In all my service, in all my  _ years  _ \- which mind you, have been many - I have never had a soldier barge in on me like that.” He grinned at her. “And I was in a particularly foul mood. It was… amusing.”

“Well, I’m so glad my eagerness to better myself was comical to you,” she said flatly.

Dara placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I had admired your determination as well. Your willingness to learn. You sounded so earnest. And to approach me so confidently,” he said. “It was impressive.”

She shrugged off his hand with a sheepish smile, taking another step forward with her walking stick. “It’s not much farther.”

“What? I’ve flown over these treetops many times and to my knowledge there is nothing so grand,” Dara muttered. 

“Not everything worth seeing is ‘grand,’ Afshin.”

They continued their walk in companionable silence. Dara taking in the scenery of the woods she walked with such ease. Her every footstep was practiced and memorized. She didn’t look down at her feet, automatically stepped over tree roots and rocks as though the forest floor was a part of her. He wondered how often she’d wandered these woods. Had it been similar to his wandering the deserts all those years ago? His mind empty, confused. Trying to keep himself occupied fashioning weapons out of anything he could find. 

“Here it is,” Irtemiz said, halting.

Dara looked up to see the small, stone ruins of what looked to have once been a cottage. The stone blocks had crumbled and worn away, but fragments of broken beams remained. A tree had grown through the center of the house and vines strangled the falling structure. What appeared to have been a well and a garden were adjacent to an archway that was once a front door. A bushel of orange flowers bloomed wildly out of control spilling into the well.

“What do you think?” Irtemiz asked, her voice hopeful.

Dara did have a weakness for ruins. There was something comforting about how even when something had been destroyed, it still had some worth. It still held regard. Like him, they were beautiful in a broken sort of way.

_ Like her now? _

He glanced at her, to see she was beaming at the crumbling site. Her eyes glinted with what seemed like relief. 

He wondered that this being so close to the shed of her father’s, if this place had once been her family’s. 

“Is this… was this once your home?” Dara asked quietly.

Irtemiz set her walking stick by a tree and dropped the bag slung over her shoulders. “No,” she said simply. She walked to the former front door. “Come along, Afshin.”

Dara followed her into the cottage and took in the half formed walls and the shrubbery that invaded what was likely once a kitchen. She walked around an unsturdy pillar of wood. 

“This is my favorite part.”

Dara joined Irtemiz to see her kneeling before the remains of a fireplace. The chimney had broken exposing the outside but the hearth was still sturdy. Patterns had been carved into the stone. Her finger traced the lines gently. He peered at them, lowering himself to kneel beside her. Simple drawings. No meanings behind them. No words. They were simply there.

“I don’t know why it’s my favorite,” she mused, a wistful smile on her lips. “But it is.”

He didn’t know why either, but there was something aesthetically pleasing about the soot and dirt smudged into the cracks, making the patterns stand out against the weathered stone. 

“I don’t know that you need a reason to like something,” Dara muttered. “Some things are just… nice.”

The corner of her lip tugged up a little higher. “I suppose so.”

She stood, bracing her hands on her knees and continuing to walk through the cottage. Her dark eyes took in the piqued ceiling, holes and gaps where tree branches sprouted through, reaching towards the sky.

“I come here often. Sometimes I try to imagine who lived here. Who would build a home so far away from everyone,” she remarked. 

Dara trailed behind her, aimlessly looking at the skeletons of furniture that had fallen apart with age. “Who do you think would?”

“Perhaps a pair of lovers in hiding,” she said, casting a mischievous look at him over her shoulder. “Or maybe a person who was simply fed up with people.” Her eyes were distant. “Or even someone who people were likely fed up with.”

“And why would they be fed up with her?” Dara pressed, his voice gentle.

Irtemiz exhaled loudly and gave him a knowing look. “Subtle,” she deadpanned. 

“Apologies, I should not pry.”

There was a pause, silence hanging in the air. Irtemiz exited the house, Dara just behind her. She crossed to the well, sitting on the edge. Dara winced. Yes, this well had long dried up, but it didn’t make seeing her sitting at the tipping point any more comforting. 

Dara leaned against a tree beside her, his eyes combing over the fallen homestead again. It was another moment before she spoke up again.

“I thought you had forgotten about me,” Irtemiz said softly.

Dara laughed. “Impossible.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I mean, you’ve been traveling for years. Hunting ifrit and slave vessels. I’d imagined you’d have met plenty of people-“

“Did Nahri ever tell you what I said to her that day that I left? What I said about you?” Dara asked, looking down at her. 

She seemed perplexed but intrigued, blinking up at him.

His ears warmed. Dara had never been one to hide his emotions, but being vulnerable did not come easy to him. But right now, Dara’s friend needed him. She needed to be reminded that she mattered. That beyond being a soldier she was someone. Someone that should stick around.

“I told her that you… you were something of a younger sister to me.”

The lines on Irtemiz’s face smoothed, her eyes softening. He gave her a gruff smile, shoving her shoulder playfully. 

“Aye, don’t start being nice to me because I told you that,” Dara said sternly. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Afshin.”

They stood there a moment, taking in the sites and sounds. The quiet song of a nearby bird. The fading babbling of the river far behind them. The whispering of the leaves as the wind rustled the trees. The feeling of the sun soaking their skin. He understood why she came here. She overwhelmed her senses trying to block out everything else. It was Irtemiz’s version of how he had made weapons with anything on hand to occupy his mind.

“Well, we’ll stay here tonight,” Dara said. 

“Here?”

“Yes, I find ruins to be ideal camping spots.”

“Oh, we’re camping are we?”

He arched a dark brow, looking down at her expectantly. “Did you expect us to share that excuse for a bed in your shack?”

“You’re staying the night?”

The disbelief in her eyes wounded him. How long had it been since someone had lent her a hand? Since someone had displayed compassion for her? Irtemiz had done terrible things in Daevabad, but nothing so bad as The Scourge. She was complicit in the deaths of dozens of Daevas but she was no monster. There were surely people who loved her.

Weren’t there?

“I’ll stay as long as you need.”

“I don’t need-“

“Bah, I’ll stay as long as I wish then. Don’t argue. It’s tiresome,” Dara said errantly. “And I still have to conjure food and drink for us. So unless you want to spend your evening with a fanged, fiery, Darayavahoush you’ll stop making half hearted protests and let me do as I please. Alright?”

She grinned, swallowing what he thought may be a laugh. “Okay, Afshin.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irtemiz has a nightmare

Irtemiz built them a fire beneath the overhang of the dilapidated roof. Dara wore himself out conjuring a pair of bed mats for them to sleep upon and two blankets. He had to fight his fiery form after summoning them a plentiful feast. He would rest well tonight, that was for certain.

Afternoon turned to evening and evening to night.

Irtemiz was regaled in his tales of learning to read and write and traveling with Zaynab and Aqisa. She asked dozens of questions as he recanted fights with some of the ifrit he’d caught. She was enamored with his stories of rescued slave vessels and his letters to the Banu Nahida. He could tell that the details of his life were a nice distraction from her own.

Distractions did not heal wounds. Distractions were stopping up a leak with your finger instead of repairing it. Whatever had happened, whatever she had done, Irtemiz needed to face it. There was no substitute for the willing ear of a friend.

“Irtemiz,” Dara said, stoking the fire with a stick. A flurry of embers flew up into the night sky. His voice was gentle. “Why did you leave Daevabad?”

The smile she had been wearing died on her lips. She frowned and looked down at the cup of wine in her hands. Dara could tell that she wanted nothing more than the earth she was sitting on to swallow her up. For a moment he thought she would change the subject and he would have let her, but instead she drew herself up, elbows resting on her knees.

“The people of Daevabad weren’t awful to us. They didn’t particularly like us but it wasn’t like when the prince had killed you. No one was throwing rumi fire and the Banu Nahida wasn’t exiling us. Most of us left of our own accord really. Returned to our families in Daevastana.” She wore a grim smile. “As you know, I didn’t really have anyone in Al-Marahar to return to.”

Yes, Dara recalled that she had no family. She was one of the orphans Manizeh had picked up. Her town, forgotten by Ghassan, had been overcome with sickness stealing the life of both her mother and father when she was only seventeen. Her fellow soldiers had become her family. She’d left Al-Marahar behind her.

“So I tried to stick it out on my own and found a cheap place in the Daeva quarter. But I couldn’t sleep.” She winced at the words and looked over to the Afshin. “Nightmares.”

“Really?” Dara said, brows drawing together.

In the time Dara had known Irtemiz she had watched friends die, been a prisoner of war and witnessed countless deaths both by her own hand and her enemies’. And every night she slept like a rock. Still as stone. Dara had expected at least one night to wake up to her shrieking in horror at whatever visions plagued her sleep… but nothing. He had marveled at whatever internal stability she had that was keeping her so well preserved. He’d offered to lend her a willing ear should she need one. Irtemiz had only replied that she was a tough one to keep down for long. She’d said her penchant to always look forward prevented the nightmares from coming for her. Apparently, it had only been a matter of time.

“So I went to the Banu Nahida. I told her I was having difficulty sleeping - that it was disturbing my neighbors when I woke up screaming…” she said bitterly. “She was kind enough to supply me with sleeping potions. She warned me that they probably wouldn’t get rid of the nightmares, but they’d keep me asleep. That seemed like enough in the moment.

“But after some time, they just became too difficult to live with, so I left. I figured that living in Daevabad wasn’t good for me. Everyone else had left, it was probably best if I did too. So I returned to Al-Marahar and - um...”

She bit down on her lip and Dara saw her eyes begin to water. She closed them tight.

“You needn’t continue, Irtemiz,” Dara said gently. “Why don’t we rest?”

When she opened her eyes, they were still wet.

“I don’t want to sleep, Dara,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Irtemiz had never called him “Dara” before. She’d also never sounded so desperate. So helpless. Dara’s heart sank. The dark circles beneath her eyes, the long nap she’d taken in the middle of the day, Irtemiz was trying not to sleep. 

“Irtemiz, staying awake won’t chase away the nightmares.”

Her expression was strained. “Then what will?”

There was a pause where Dara realized that he was just as helpless as she was. 

His voice was quiet. “I do not know.”

A blood curdling screech pierced the night, rousing Dara from his deep slumber. He sat upright and looked over to the source of noise. Irtemiz.

The bright embers of their dying fire flickered in her eyes that were wide in terror, glistening with tears of horror. She was panic-stricken, skin slick with sweat, shining in the moonlight. 

Dara resisted the urge to scramble over to her, knowing exactly how delicate of a state she was in. He understood better than Irtemiz knew. 

Slowly he rose to his feet, making his way over to her bed-mat with caution. She panted, fists clutching at her blanket, chest heaving. He lowered himself to sit beside her, daring not to lay a hand on her yet.

She struggled to inhale ragged breaths.

“Irtemiz.”

She nodded and Dara was relieved she was at least registering his presence.

“Give me your hand,” he said.

There was a pause and he could tell her brain was attempting to translate his request. That her body was resisting to obey her own commands. Eventually, she placed a trembling hand in Dara’s. He slowly pressed it to the center of his chest letting her feel the gentle rise and fall of his lungs.

“Try to breathe with me.”

Still staring straight, eyes round, Irtemiz tried to regulate her breathing. To match Dara’s. They sat like this for what could’ve been hours, but as the sun had yet to rise, Dara imagined it hadn’t been too long. Eventually she turned to him and he was sad to see the haunted woman he’d encountered yesterday afternoon had resurfaced. The cheerful and snarky person that had been enamored by the ruins of a cottage long gone. Irtemiz knew this too. He could see the longing for the return of that giddy girl in her sorrowful eyes. He understood missing a part of yourself that you couldn’t get back. That couldn’t be found. That you worried was now lost forever.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dara asked, squeezing her hand.

Irtemiz sniffed and when she looked at him she seemed like a frightened child. “Would it help?”

Dara felt his brows draw together. He fought off a frown. “Perhaps.”

Irtemiz nodded resolutely, turning her eyes to the glowing remains of their fire. Dara snapped his fingers reigniting the flames.

“Do you remember… Bahram?” 

Dara startled. Of course he remembered Bahram. Kind, humble, loyal Bahram. The boy whose only wish, the night before battle, was to steal a few moments alone with Irtemiz. Bahram had died at the hands of Alizayd right before Irtemiz’s eyes.

Under her command.

“He was so careful… until he wasn’t,” she muttered. “I have a lot of nightmares, Afshin. But the most common, is Bahram and I… in that cove. And he’s sharing his dreams with me, he’s making me laugh and then a blade pierces his chest and he dies in my arms. And there’s blood - there’s so much blood.”

Dara had known that what Irtemiz and Bahram had was more than the camaraderie of soldier to soldier. It hadn’t been obvious until after he’d caught them sneaking off together that evening. All the quiet conversations, all the “help with a broadsword” all of the secret smiles were suddenly glaringly apparent. 

Unfortunately, they hadn’t stood a chance. Not against war. Not against Manizeh.

“What were they?” 

“What?”

“You said Bahram shared his dreams with you.”

“Oh,” Irtemiz said with a sad laugh, her eyes rolling playfully. “He, uh, just wanted to go back to Daevabad. He wanted an apartment in the Daeva quarter. He wanted to be married, to have a dozen children.”

“With you?” Dara inquired with a chuckle.

“We didn’t really talk about it. I think he knew… somehow Bahram knew he wasn’t going to make it out of this.”

Silence fell again. Dara watched as Irtemiz’s tense posture relaxed. She leaned her head on Dara’s shoulder, releasing an exhausted breath. They sat there staring into flames a little longer. Eventually, Dara heard Irtemiz’s breathing grow even and her body go slack. He gently lowered her back onto the bed mat then moved his own mat closer to her’s. 

If she awoke screaming again, he would be ready.

The next morning Dara was still recovering from the extensive amount of magic he’d done. He was able to conjure a meager breakfast of manna and tea. When Irtemiz finally woke she was resentful to eat, but he persuaded her with a stern look. He began rolling up the bed mats and cleaning the remains of the fire.

“So what’s next for you?” Irtemiz asked, lacing up her boots.

“I figured I could test your skill. See if you’ve maintained your archery over the years,” Dara said with a shrug.

She gave him a look. “You’re staying another day?”

The Afshin snorted, arching a dark brow at her. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

He could tell by the glint in her eye and the smile she was trying to fight off that she was pleased for another day of his company. She pulled her hair loose and began to knot it again at the nape of her neck. 

“Stop, stop,” he sighed, sitting down behind her. 

She let go of her hair, spreading her palms in mock surrender. Dara gently raked his fingers through her hair, gathering the ends into three sections.

“What are you doing?” Irtemiz asked, a smile in her voice.

“I’m braiding your hair. I’m not going to hike behind you and have to look at that tangled nest of a knot again…” he grumbled.

Irtemiz bristled briefly, but Dara was not surprised when her posture eased as he set braiding the strands. Tamima had enjoyed when he braided her hair. She had said it made her feel “like a lady.” 

“Where did you learn to braid hair?” Irtemiz asked.

“My sister,” Dara blurted. 

He stiffened, the sudden vulnerability making him uneasy. It had been sometime since he’d been so open with his company. To think that this could have been Tamima if she’d been allowed to grow old. It could be her hair he was braiding. Dara cleared his throat as a thickness developed.

“I hope I don’t disappoint you…” Irtemiz sighed.

“Hm?” 

“My archery.”

“I saw the target back at your shed. There were arrows stuck in all the right spots.”

“Well, I get a little nervous with an audience,” Irtemiz said with a smirk. “Especially when that audience includes Darayavahoush e-Afshin.”

Dara groaned. “It’s only me.”

“Yes, in large doses you  _ are _ quite underwhelming…”

Dara chuckled, fastening the end of her braid. “Alright, let’s head back.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irtemiz confronts her demons

Irtemiz drew a line in the dirt with the toe of her boot, marking the starting line of her makeshift shooting range. 

“I don’t know how I’m meant to beat  _ you _ at archery,” Irtemiz scoffed.

Dara fiddled with the string of his silver bow. “I swear to you that I will use no magic.”

“Oh, good,” she said lightly. “Yes, now all you have is over a thousand years of practice on me. We’re evenly matched.”

He laughed, a robust and guiltless sound that he hardly recognized. Dara placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“What if I swore to go easy on you?”

“No, I don’t want that,” she said, flippant. “I’ll take a serving of humiliation in exchange for your company, Afshin.”

“You know,” the Afshin began, nocking an arrow. “Last night I was ‘Dara’ and now we’re back to ‘Afshin.’” He let the arrow fly - it plunged directly into the face of the target dummy. “I’m no longer your commander. There’s no need to be so cordial.”

Irtemiz stepped forward, notching an arrow in her bow. Dara sized her up as she took the archer’s stance. Her back straight, her elbow leveled, her knuckles gripping the tail of the arrow. 

“Old habits die hard,” she muttered, letting the arrow loose and sending it directly into the lungs of the target.

Dara nodded approvingly. “I’m impressed.” He raised another arrow. “You were a good leader too, you know? Training the others. Did you ever consider pursuing that?”

His arrow landed with a thud directly adjacent to his first one. Irtemiz was silent and when he looked back to her she was frowning. Dara cocked his head to the side curiously.

“I’m not saying join a militia or the Daeva Brigade, Irtemiz. I mean perhaps, offering lessons to the youth of Al-Marahar.”

She nodded. “I did that.”

“Oh.”

Irtemiz wordlessly raised her bow and arrow. Dara said nothing. It was clear she was deep in thought. Carefully considering her next words. Dara had touched a nerve, that much was obvious. She exhaled, letting go of the arrow. It punctured the dummy’s stomach. 

“Next topic,” she said promptly.

Judging by how eager Irtemiz was to move away from the conversation, Dara figured that there was far more to this temporary archery instructor post than she led on. That was fine. He would let her come to him. Dara was perfectly content to wait. They continued their shooting in companionable silence, arrow after arrow sinking into the target. She’d improved since he’d last seen her. Then again, the last time he saw her she was still recovering.

“Stop going easy on me,” Irtemiz grumbled.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I can tell.”

“No, you cannot.”

“Yes, I can. I can see you concentrating.”

“I’m trying to do better than you without the aid of magic. Of course I’m concentrating,” the Afshin countered.

Irtemiz shook her head, smirking. “No, I’ve seen you shoot without magic and it’s effortless to you. You never have to concentrate.”

He was caught. It wasn’t that he was trying to do  _ poorly _ , he was trying to do just good enough to deceive her. Just enough to restore her confidence. Dara was a poor liar so he waved an errant hand.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, changing the topic.

She shot another arrow into the throat of the target. “No.”

Dara gave her knowing look. “Yes, you are and even if you aren’t you need to eat.” He walked to the two stumps where they’d sat yesterday and set to conjuring some lunch for them. 

He was still regaining his strength from the abundance of magic he’d performed last night, but hoped by the evening he’d have enough strength to summon something better. He snapped his fingers and a large pot appeared slowly filling with soup, along with two bowls. He filled them both and turned to Irtemiz, preparing to invite her over.

She let loose an arrow that soared past her target and into the brush. Dara opened his mouth to offer a teasing remark but Irtemiz’s eyes had begun to water. A hand covered her lips and she sank to her knees, dropping the bow with a clatter. 

Dara was on his feet and striding towards her immediately. He knelt in front of her and before he could say a word she fell against Dara’s chest. Instinctively he clutched her close to him, feeling her tears on his shirt and the tremors go down her back as her chest heaved. He said nothing. Only held Irtemiz in his embrace. She rocked in his arms, shuddering breaths warm against his clavicle.

After a few moments she released a slow but shaky exhale and pulled away with a sniff. 

Dara cupped her face in his hands, the corner of his lip quirking up in a grimace. “There’s no need to weep. We’ll pretend you didn’t miss the target.”

Irtemiz let out a laugh that was also partly a sob. 

Dara wiped away the remaining tears with his thumbs. “Quite an overreaction to a poor shot if you ask me.” His grim smile softened. “Perhaps there’s more to this than I think.”

She nodded, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Dara released her face but held her eyes. She refused to meet them for a moment but with what appeared to be tremendous effort met his gaze.

“I will not judge you, Irtemiz,” Dara said softly. “I would be honored if you shared this burden with me.”

Her sobs resumed. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Please take it from me that nothing is resolved by avoiding your demons,” Dara said quietly. “I would know.”

Irtemiz brushed a stray hair from her face and nodded again, this time more resolute. “I missed. I missed the target and I missed on purpose.”

“What do you mean?” Dara probed gently.

They were still kneeling in the dirt. Dara did not wish to move her, not when he was making progress. Instead they stayed on the ground. 

“I came back to Al-Marahar and they welcomed me back with open arms. I was offered a position with the town guard but it opened too many wounds for me. I couldn’t… I didn’t want to be tasked with ‘protecting’ people again,” Irtemiz explained, her eyes fervent as though begging him to understand. “So I gathered some old training targets that the guard didn’t need anymore and offered to hold lessons for a small fee. It was enough to afford a living, I took residence in my family’s old home - fixing it up little by little. Things went well and the nightmares stopped. I thought I was… cured.

“But one day, I was teaching Afra how to shoot horizontally… and beside the target I saw him coming…”

“Him?”

“Yes, Alizayd Al-Qahtani. He had his sword drawn… only it wasn’t him, Afshin. It wasn’t him I aimed my bow at. It wasn’t him I shot.” Irtemiz began to tremble. She opened her mouth to speak and closed it a few times. Dara gently rubbed circles on her back urging her to take her time. “It was little Estere. Coming over the hill for her lesson. She’s only eleven and I shot her.”

“Did she…” Dara shut his mouth. He knew he shouldn’t ask. He wished he could take it back… but Irtemiz was shaking her head.

“No, she was smaller than my  _ imaginary  _ Alizayd. It hit her shoulder… which I thought was the prince’s chest,” Irtemiz said in a hollow voice. “Afra screamed so loud and… it’s like it woke me up. I saw it was Estere and I screamed and she fell to the ground and she didn’t say anything. She didn’t scream. She just laid there…

“I knew there’d be a mob. I took her to the town healer. Her mother was crying while she laid on the healer’s table and her father was screaming at me. I left the next day.” Irtemiz bowed her head. “I can never go back. Ever.”

Dara’s brows furrowed. “Surely, they would forgive you. They are your people.”

“It’s not a matter of forgiveness, Dara,” she said hopelessly. “It’s a matter of their safety. I’m better off here where no one can be hurt.”

“Irtemiz, you speak of yourself as though there is no hope for you,” Dara remarked in a gentle voice. “I cannot express how wrong you are.”

“Dara, no one lives around me,” she said, face crumpled in despair. “Bahram, Mardoniye, Laleh, Gushtap, Daeva nobles and then my people.”

Dara took her hands gingerly. “My friend, you have done terrible things, that is true. But you are not evil. You are not beyond redemption. I  _ know  _ you.”

He could see her take in the words. He could tell they brought her little comfort. Of course it was difficult to console her. Irtemiz had a soul, a heart. Where Dara could bury his despair and agony for centuries, Irtemiz was unable to do so much as even look the other way. 

“Irtemiz, I will say it as many times as you need to hear it: you are no Scourge.” 

She sniffed again, and nodded begrudgingly, eyes downcast. 

“You will not heal by hiding from yourself, Irtemiz. You cannot.”

“Where do I go? Where  _ can _ I go and not endanger anyone?”

The answer was effortless but he delivered it as delicately as he could. “Come with me.”

She looked confused. “Where?”

“Everywhere,” he shrugged. “I have many vessels to find and many ifrit to hunt. It couldn't hurt to have someone as brave as you by my side.”

“As brave as me,” she said with a mirthless laugh. “As brave as someone cowering in the middle of the woods? Someone who sinks to their knees everytime they miss a target? Someone who runs from ghosts?” 

“You are one of the bravest people I’ve ever known. You demanded your commander be harder on you. You advised against an attack devised by your leader. You were taken prisoner and survived.” He held her hands tighter. “A moment of weakness does not make you a coward. Especially after all you’ve been through.”

Irtemiz appeared to accept this. She swallowed hard and squeezed Dara’s hands back. He didn’t want this moment to slip away. This moment where she was finally letting herself be human.

“Irtemiz, come with me. I’d be honored to have your company. The moment you’re sick of it I will bring you back.”

“You don’t want to travel with someone who wakes up screaming every night.”

“Well, I need little rest. And it wasn’t long ago I was in a similar position. I still have nightmares.” He moved his hands to her shoulders and smiled warmly. “Irtemiz, I could use you by my side again. Please.”

Her eyes drifted to her small home.

“I suppose you could stay in your tiny shed surviving on a diet of rice and mana,” he said offhandedly. “Or you could come on adventures with me. See the world. Punish the ifrit. Save slaves that have been long forgotten.”

She chewed her lip and Dara could almost feel her swaying. Her shaky breaths became even and slowly but surely, the smallest of smiles appeared on her lips.

“And be under  _ your _ command again, Afshin?”

Dara snorted. “We would be partners.”

The next morning Irtemiz had gathered what little possessions she cared for in a rucksack. Dara placed a security curse on her shed and they headed for the nearest town. Already she seemed lighter. Dara caught her taking a final wistful glance at the place that had served as her home for the past few years. 

She didn’t look back again.

“What do we need to grab from town if you can conjure almost everything we need?” Irtemiz asked as they continued through the trees.

“Last I checked, I’m the only one of the two of us who can become the wind,” Dara said pointedly. “So we’re going to grab a carpet I can enchant and head west.”

“Why west?”

“There are rumors of a human man there who leveled a village to the ground,” Dara explained. “I’m willing to bet he’s using an ifrit slave to do his dirty work.”

“What’d he level a village for?”

Dara looked down at Irtemiz with a smirk. “One more question and I’m sending you back to your shed.”

“You’re not my commander anymore. We’re partners and a partner can ask their partner as many questions as they want.”

He arched a brow. “Perhaps I’ll demote you then.”

She barked a laugh and Dara found himself smiling broadly. It had been sometime since he’d had a traveling companion. He wasn’t certain how long Irtemiz would tolerate his company, but he would be grateful for any measure of time he could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have them go on more adventures someday :) Hope you enjoyed

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve already finished this - it’ll be a few chapters. I just have to summon the energy to edit them


End file.
